Chapter 15 - The Chairman’s Fall
Richard Pendelton scrambled backward out of his leather armchair, his face turning the color of chalk as Marcus stepped into the dim light of the lounge.
"Marcus!" Richard stammered, raising his hands defensively. "This... this is an illegal boarding! We are in international waters! You have no jurisdiction—"
"Jurisdiction?" Marcus interrupted, his voice dropping into a lethal, dead calm as he walked across the room. "My wife was attacked in a private hospital suite under your syndicate's orders. My unborn child was put at risk. International waters don't protect you from a Thorne."
Richard looked toward the exit, but two tactical operators blocked the threshold, their automatic rifles leveled at the council members.
"You can't prove anything," Richard spat, trying to regain a shred of aristocratic dignity. "The ledger is inadmissible. The board will—"
"The ledger isn't going to a courtroom, Richard," a cool voice echoed from behind Marcus.
Julian Vance stepped into the room, holding a ruggedized laptop. He walked up to the mahogany table and slammed the screen down in front of Richard.
On the display was a live feed of the global banking network: every single offshore account, secret holding company, and illicit wire transfer belonging to the six men sitting at the table.
"With three keystrokes," Julian said casually, resting his hand on the keyboard, "I am transferring every cent of your syndicate's collective capital into a public humanitarian trust managed by the Thorne Foundation. By tomorrow morning, you won't even be able to buy a cup of coffee."
Richard lunged across the table toward Julian with a hidden silver letter opener, screaming in blind rage, but Marcus moved with lightning speed.
He grabbed Richard’s wrist, twisted it behind his back with bone-crushing force, and slammed the older man face-first onto the mahogany table.
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"It’s over, Richard," Marcus whispered into his ear.
Outside the yacht’s reinforced windows, three Coast Guard cutters—coordinated through Julian’s emergency maritime protocols—converged on the Phantom Star, their blue and red lights flashing across the dark, violent ocean waves like a judgment day.
